Walk On
by Linise
Summary: After the inevitable war against Voldemort, the trio and Draco Malfoy make their escape...to Nebraska? Both there and in Britain, trouble arises. PG-13 for language and slash.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Ainsworth is a real city in Nebraska, but I created everything in it. 

Notes and Warnings: This is practically an AU, so if those aren't your thing, then don't read. Lyrics are from "Walk On" by U2. Slashers: There's het. Non-slashers: There's slash. If you enjoy this, maybe you would want to read the story I wrote a while back that no one reviewed lol.

Enjoy, read and review as you see fit. Constructive criticism is great.

*_And love  
Is not the easy thing  
The only baggage  
That you can bring  
Not the easy thing  
The only baggage you can bring  
Is all that you can't leave behind*_

Ainsworth, Nebraska. 2/18/03. Afternoon.

The houses on Weymouth Drive were all completely and totally ordinary. There was not one flower, bush or tree out of place, much less the expensive cars parked in the driveways and the carefully laid cement walkways. Even the weeds in the flowerbeds were arranged neatly and not noticeable if they existed. The obligatory children that played up and down the unscathed road, sometimes, didn't even disrupt the tranquil nature of the street.

Houses 145 through 156 looked practically the same. They were all owned by doctors, lawyers, dentists and professors, and owned fancy BMW's or Volkswagens. The residents were all members of the country club two miles away, and made an attempt to get one round of golf or bridge in a week. If the families had children, they went to the elite schools across town, and diligently did homework until 6 when their parents allowed them out. Most of the time, it was to complete volunteer work at the neighborhood nursing home or politician's office.

The women, with the exception of two families, were responsible housewives who kept clean houses; made good food for the designer tables they ate dinner on, and produced and cared for offspring that would make something of themselves later on in life. The men did the dirty work at the office, brought home the pay, and created the needed 'healthy family atmosphere'. Houses 148 and 152 had wives that worked part time at their husband's law firm and a nurse alongside her husband, an ER surgeon. They didn't have children.

House number 157, the one that rounded out the twelve houses on the completely normal street, broke all the rules. The four of them were in no way related (with the exception of Randall and Henrietta's off and on relationship, which was frowned upon for another reason entirely…), and therefore not a family. It was strange, they were strange, and the only reason that the other residents of Weymouth Drive didn't say anything about them to the Neighborhood Safety Patrol was that they were law-abiding citizens, and these people didn't do anything wrong. Yet.

Drew MacAulay swerved onto the quiet street in his Jag (which technically didn't break the car rule, but outdoing certainly qualified for something), and sat on the edge of the driveway for a few moments just to let Def Leppard echo through the silent area. The last notes of 'Animal' died off as he pulled into the long driveway, tugged off his shades and shoved them in the glovebox. The sun was beating down on him, and the one thing he liked about himself was his untainted skin. The pale young man went into the house in a hurry, before anyone could thoroughly inspect him. He knew what went on along his street as well as the next person.

"I swear," Mrs. Brotherton chatted to Mrs. Jefferies; the neighborhood gossips. It was uncommon not to find them sitting on one of their porches, sipping coffee usually, but every once in a while they would drink hot tea brewed right, courtesy of Henrietta Gregory.

Jan Jefferies, Brad Jefferies' wife (The neighborhood friendly litigator. He'll work for you and your loved ones!), always had something to say about the four young people that occupied the house across from hers. "I heard that he is some sort of vampire. He never stays out in the sun for more than a few seconds, and you've seen his teeth?"

"Really Jan," Deb Brotherton, the dentist's wife, said condescendingly to her friend, although she had heard the same thing from Kristy Mathews just two nights ago at the weekly bridge game. "That's impossible. Vampires aren't real, for one. Two, he leads a perfectly normal life. There is no way that a real vampire can pull off such a taxing job every day like Drew does."

The blonde knew that Deb was just making excuses as to why her assumption couldn't be right. It wasn't the American way to agree with someone else's hypotheses. The best part was that she didn't even agree with the rumor. Jan knew he wasn't a vampire, please, but it was fun to prospect the idea. He was unusually pale, and his hair was white blonde, not something common with anyone but albinos, and he certainly wasn't one of those.

But hey…he just could be…

Henrietta Gregory and Randall Walker were the next to drive up the long driveway, in their burgundy Volvo. It was a more fashionably comfortable car, and the neighbors approved of it. Henrietta was a smart girl, in her last year of college at U of N. Rumor was that she was going to graduate magna cum laude with a degree in social sciences, and everyone thought well of her. She was a great hostess who served delicate English hors d'oeuvres. Food was always a winner with the Weymouth residents.

Randall was a bit of a different story. He was also about to graduate from U of N, but with a considerably lesser rank than Henrietta. He seemed to be an intelligent sort of fellow, but not always calm and rational. When Randall and Drew, or he and Henrietta were having one of their rows, everyone knew about it, especially the gossips, who always found out more than the top layer of information.

"Randall, for the last time, you can not copy my Famous Psychologists of the 19th century paper. It took me three hours just to write the introduction. You don't even want to know how long it took me to write the rest of it." Henrietta climbed out of the car, turned to wave quickly at Jan and Deb who were watching closely like hawks to prey, then looked viciously back at Randall.

Who just rolled his eyes at the threatening look. He knew how long it had taken her to write the paper, and just how long it had taken her to get into bed that night. "Yes Etta, I know exactly how long it took for you to write that paper. Just as long as I had to wait for you to join me in…" He glanced at Deb and Jan who were waiting for the reply, and smiled sarcastically in their direction.

Henrietta paused at the door and glared at the tall redhead. "Just shut up Randall Walker, or you'll get a cruel reminder why we are on a break. I'd have to bet you wouldn't be able to walk straight for a week." She grinned at him then, and quickly entered the house before slamming the door loudly in front of Randall's face. He ignored the interested eyes from across the street as he reluctantly followed.

"So I suppose they are off again?" Beverly Lenard said with a closed smile, sauntering over to the two women on the porch. Two houses down, she had just arrived back from her husband's law firm, where she was his secretary. After the foursome across the street, Deb and Jan enjoyed gossiping about the Lenard's, and just what went on inside Jack Lenard's office when the shades were pulled down.

Jan tapped her polished fingernails on the edge of her coffee mug, and shrugged. "I never know with them anymore," although she always did of course, "but it seems to be that way. Henrietta really needs to get out there and find a man with more potential, more her match. Randall's nice I suppose, but there are so many men right here in town that are fitting for her."

Deb nodded with interest. Her true love was match making. Her daughters were never without dates. "Well, there's Fred Henson, you know, works down at the county seat. Jason Curtis works along with Chris, smart kid." She had a few more, but those were the best ones, in her mind. Only the best for a neighbor, especially one that could cook.

Beverly, or Bev as she was called, to follow the trend, was about to reply when the last inhabitant of 157 drove down the street. He was escorted in a dented Mazda by a stringy haired brunette, Amber something or another (Yates…they did their research, but didn't want anyone to know unless the time was right or they desperately needed bragging material). James Porter was a solemn, sweet sort of boy, and would be right for Henrietta actually if they weren't such good friends that had insisted against it, and if they knew exactly what he did.

James' job was the mystery of Weymouth. He swore it was nothing illegal and quite frankly they knew it wasn't because someone would have found out what his occupation was even quicker because of that little tidbit. Husbands had done research, wives had watched closely—even the children had gotten into the act, but his lips were sealed, as well as the rest of his housemates. To save face, he claimed it was a social sort of business, so that could be just about anything.

The three women watched the cab, seeing the male head peck the girl driver on the cheek in a fraternal sort of way, then pretended to do other things as he stepped out and waved to them. They waved back gingerly. He swung his suitcase protectively next to his leg as he walked up the walkway, and watched Amber pull out of the driveway before shooting the whole street a run-around look, and entering the house.

Jan, Deb and Bev all had different theories on the boy, the rest of the occupants of 157 as well, but had already shared most of them. The ones they never shared were the ones they knew were correct, because that would be breaking the rules. The lights in the front room flickered on, but it was too early to see anything. Perhaps Lil and Dot would keep watch out later on, but they still had younger children to care for. Although the information to be had was important, childcare came first.

The coffee had fled from Jan's mug, and she nodded slowly. "Must be going, Brad should be home soon, and he'll be wanting my casserole." She rose delicately, and waited for the two women to kindly step off her porch before going inside. Deb and Bev nodded goodbye to each other, and turned back to their own establishments. Across the street at 157, the curtains rustled and closed.

*

Drew MacAulay had firmly planted himself in his recliner, and proceeded to watch the 5 o'clock news. Then it would be the 6 o'clock, and if he was lucky, national broadcasting would have another news program for him to watch. While his neighbors liked knowing only what went on in their minuscule corner of the world, Drew liked knowing everything that went on everywhere. Even the annoying 'Before We Go' tidbits were worth hearing to him.

Today was not a good day for the news. Henrietta was banging around in the kitchen, giving the impression that she was starting dinner, but that was not likely. Fights with Randall usually resulted in a few batches of Double Chocolate Chip cookies that no one but she saw. The man that had caused the racket from the kitchen was back in his bedroom, with Pink Floyd blasting out of his stereo. It sounded like 'Comfortably Numb'.

Nancy, the middle aged weather girl on the screen, told her watchers that it was going to be yet another cold, but clear day. Clouds and rain would be visiting occasionally later in the week. The middle of the country wasn't a place you moved to if you were looking forward to interesting weather situations. It was somewhere you moved if you didn't want people to find you.

James came through the door, and wasn't the least bit surprised to see Drew staring attentively at Bob on the TV, who was rambling about some crime scene at the local bank. He smiled to himself, quickly watched the vultures across the street go into their separate houses, and turned back into the living room and plopped himself down on the couch. "So, sounds like Etta and Ran are off again?"

A pan made an especially loud bang on the counter in the next room, and both of them shared a wry grin. Randall's music got a bit louder and switched to Metallica. "Seems like it, doesn't it? They came into the house silently, so I don't know what happened. But there were no battle scars, so I see no extreme reason to interfere." It was common for this to happen anyway, and they had long since learned that it was easier to let the relationship run its course.

James nodded slowly, and chuckled before leaning over to Drew. "Good, which means we have more space and time for our own ventures." He pressed his lips softly to the pale young man's, and they shared a chaste kiss before Drew shook his head in earnest. James frowned, but it was a routine. He was still patiently waiting for Drew to come around and give up his news to properly greet him, but it still wasn't happening. "You know that I have to finish watching the news James. Right after, I'm yours."

James patted Drew's hand softly, and reluctantly rose to head into the kitchen. Henrietta was definitely the lesser of the two evils when the two were fighting. Randall, as fiery as his red hair, would usually throw something at James' head. Randall was James' best friend; not counting Drew who was his lover, confidant, friend, and vexation; but when he was angry, Randall was not one to mess with.

The banging of pots had ended, to make way for vicious stirring of the substance in the large bowl. Bits of the smooth dough came flying, and a few small fragments stuck to Henrietta's sweat covered forehead. "Now wouldn't be the best time to mess with me James Porter. Your friend in there thinks that he can flirt with that whore Tawny Williams and still get into our car and make a move on me without anything being wrong. On top of that, he thinks that because we are in some way close, he can copy my papers. Besides the fact that Professor Crisk actually reads our papers, I know he's capable of writing a perfectly good piece all by himself. You and Drew should tell him that sometime."

When Henrietta was on a roll, it was hard to get her off it. Especially when she was baking. "Is Drew still watching the news? I think he should give that habit up and spend more time at work. You and he are the only ones working right now, and I'm not positive but I'd bet that our account is diminishing." Her stirring motions unconsciously became more rapid as she thought of their mutual bank account. She was overreacting—there was plenty of money for a long time.

"Etta hon, stop worrying. Drew and I are making enough money to support all of us just fine. And I think, but I'm not sure, that you are going to kill that dough." She looked from his calming green eyes down to the thinning substance, and grinned wistfully. She lifted the spoon out of it and held it in James' direction. He looked at the chocolate oozing about from every inch of the spoon, and quickly shook his head.

"More for me," said Henrietta, and licked the spoon fervently before putting it back in the bowl, and placing it on the counter. She pulled the baking sheet in front of her, and glanced back quickly. "Tell Drew that the only way he will get one of these cookies is if he calls Melodie and gets her over here without getting in a fight. Their bickering never ceases to annoy and unnerve me." The bushy haired woman turned back around and splayed piles of cookie dough on the baking pan thoughtfully and with gusto.

James walked back into the living room to see the news set changed on the TV screen, Greg and Harvey giving the national news of the day with Drew watching raptly. Wanting much to straddle his hypnotized boyfriend and snap him out of his spell but knowing he couldn't—getting none now was better than not getting any later—he sat back in his spot on the couch. "Drew love, Etta says you can have some cookies if you call Mel. I'm sure she needs a female to consult with."

Drew grunted and shifted in his recliner. "Can't you call her for me James? You know how much I loathe the woman. Double chocolate chip cookies wouldn't drag me away from the news and to the phone to call the devil's incarnate." His loving nickname for their neighbor across the fence from them. They, Melodie Jackman and her partner/boyfriend Garrett Andrews, lived on Krighton drive, where the neighbors were hardly less judgmental of the residents.

Before James could protest this, Randall exited his room. He shot both of the men in the living room a look, and went into the kitchen. "RANDALL WALKER, DON'T YOU DARE COME IN THIS KITCHEN WHEN I'M BAKING! YOU KNOW WHAT I'M THINKING OF YOU RIGHT NOW WHEN I'M BAKING!" Randall must have asked a very stupid question because she replied, "OF COURSE YOU CAN'T HAVE ANY YOU GREAT PRAT!"

Her English accent was much more noticeable when she screamed. The others were able to tone their accents down to a slight twinge, but Henrietta hadn't gotten much of hers off. Getting rid of an accent was tough for all of them of course; it took many attempts to correct what they had practiced for 18 years. Drew and James shared an amused look, and managed to clear it by the time a distraught looking Randall shuffled into the living room. "How in the hell am I going to get myself out of this one?"

Drew grinned evilly and pointed to the phone visible in the office, the next room over. "You can start by calling Melodie." Randall grimaced and shook his head. "Heck no. Every time she comes over here, she plants ideas into Etta's head. I swear, it's Mel that implants those evil ideas of torturing me to a slow and painful death." Drew shared a look with James in which he tried to confirm his assumption that Melodie was indeed the devil's incarnate.

James was reluctant to say anything. He just stared at Randall until he finally broke. "Well, I suppose it would get me on a better foot than if I went out and had a drink with Natalie." Natalie was his other off and on again girlfriend (off with he was on with Henrietta, and so on), the most recent and the one he seemed to be the most attached to. She was pleasant enough, but not Henrietta and all three men agreed on that much.

Drew nodded as Randall started to head to the office. "I swear Walker, you are a genius among ordinary men."

Randall went to make his call; James stayed to watch some of the news. After about twenty minutes, he finally veered off into the bedroom he shared with Drew, and listened to some top 40 on their king size bed. Drew stayed at his recliner, watching the news as always. For four years, it hadn't changed. The routine was comforting for all of them, and the last thing any of them wanted was for it to be shaken up.

*

Dinner was to be served at 7 o'clock on the dot. It always was, whether Henrietta was in a bad, good, or indifferent mood. Her mood, however, did affect the meal selection. She was throwing together anything she could find that was edible, a little bit after she had slipped her cookies into the oven. Everyone was just going to have to live with whatever came out of the oven later on. She didn't care right now.

It was one thing for Randall to think he had access to everything that she did, homework or otherwise. She was used to this because he would always ask for help and answers to his work at boarding school. But what bugged her right now was the way he acted as if she was always going to be an option for him. Natalie (yes, she knew about her. No words were exchanged but both women knew the other existed) cancels a get-together, Tawny the whore skips out on a play date or whatever the heck they do, and he comes crying back.

Henrietta had always loved Randall with all her heart. Back when they were younger it was a close friend love: He and James had kind of saved her life, she had helped save theirs, it equaled out in a weird way. Later on it was a blind puppy love; one she didn't want, but cherished, and denied all the way. The ending school year was their serious year, everyone ooed and cooed at them and they were made to believe that they would stay together forever. The kisses and promises had felt so real. But in moving to the states, all that had been forgotten and all that was left was the fact that they would always have each other in the end.

James and Drew had finally come to their senses a year after moving, and nothing had gone majorily wrong between them since. There was not a day that went by that Henrietta did not fully see the way the two men were perfect for each other in every way. If the two of them weren't so damn independent and prideful, she would bet on them finishing each other's sentences. Her and Randall had been able to do that for a while. She longed for that time again. The buzzer on the oven went off at the same time as the doorbell rang, and she didn't hear her friend arrive.

James, the neutral party, answered the door for Melodie, and Garrett, who had tagged along for the free food. The two blonds, courtesy of the stereotypical California lifestyle in which they had grown up, smiled easily at the messy haired man and invited themselves inside. "Hey James, long time no see," said Garrett with a laugh as he pulled himself through the front doorway. They worked in the same office, therefore, they saw each other all the time. His job was a mystery to the vultures on his street as well.

Melodie laughed, which basically meant she opened her mouth and beautiful sound came out. The girl was the epitome of the California girl: long, sexy legs, a pleasant face, nice chest, obligatory tan, even in Nebraska. Her voice was like heaven, and if James weren't so shakably gay then he surely would have been a puddle of goo just about then. 

They walked into the living room where Drew's news was just ending. He turned around and winced at the sight of Melodie, who rolled her eyes and jutted out her hip. "Nice to see you MacAulay. I believe your handsome face is the highlight of my entire day." Sarcasm was a favorite of hers, more so than the rest of the close knit group. She had the ability to dish it to anyone that was deserving, at the drop of a hat.

"Jackman, I don't think there would be anything else in this world that could top the joy I have of seeing you and your cocky ass." Problem was that while Drew didn't use it often, he was just as able to dish it as Melodie. Garrett and James, instead of scolding the two on their bickering, grinned and were ready to encourage the comments before Henrietta stuck her head into the living room. "Dinner's ready—hey Mel, Garrett. Will one of you get Mr. Walker please? He'll want to eat, I'm sure, although I know I don't think he's deserving."

At the sound of Henrietta's clipped speech about Randall, Melodie forgot about her discord with Drew to go and consult with her friend. Drew and James shared a quick argument with their eyes over who was to get Randall, and James won. Drew dragged himself into the back hall to recover Randall, who was back to listening to Pink Floyd. He opened the door to be hit with a wave of the album Dark Side of the Moon. "It's time for dinner, and Etta's calling you Mr. Walker, just so you know." Randall grimaced as he shut off his CD player and headed into the kitchen where the others were already seated.

Drew, not waiting for Randall to receive a warm welcome from anyone that was occupying the chairs, took his normal seat next to James. Melodie and Henrietta closely watched Randall take an apprehensive seat next to Garrett, which was the furthest away from Henrietta he could get without dining in the next room. 

The only sound for a few moments was breathing, which wasn't rare for dinners with Randall and Henrietta disputing. "Well Henrietta, the food looks delicious," said Garrett finally, to clear the tense silence that was building, and everyone was quick to voice their agreement. Randall was silence but nodded enthusiastically. Henrietta looked doubtful but she was never one to shun praise, so she sat up and brightened a bit, before eyeing the food again.

There was bread, some unidentified soup-like substance, green beans and a chunk of hamburger meat that could be called meat loaf if you had a good imagination. Certainly not one of her better meals, but it seemed edible, and that was all that was required, in her opinion. On days like this, it was a plus if the food was edible. Maybe she would get lucky and have Randall choke on a longer than usual green bean.

Drew tentatively stuck his knife in the meat, and was relieved to find nothing oozing out of it. Soon enough, everyone was building his or her plates. Melodie sipped the soup thoughtfully, and called it chicken noodle. "So, how was everyone's day?"

James, as if looking around for hidden cameras, microphones or lurking neighbors, looked over his shoulder suspiciously then turned back to face the blonde. "Nothing out of the ordinary today. We are still working on the Reeves case, but it's not serious. Amber and I will be done by the end of the month, at the latest. How's it going down in human relations? I heard some rumors flying in the lunch room about some crazy woman claiming her dog flew?"

Everyone involved in the AMAWA rolled his or her eyes. Melodie nodded her head at the memory of earlier that day. "That's just Ms. Willit. The old woman comes in at least once a week, ranting and raving about paranormal things happening to her. If I didn't know better, she's the sort that forgets her neck is attached to her head."

Drew bit into some of the bread and winced at the toughness of it. "She's supposed to have the beginning stages of Alzheimer's, if I can recall her file correctly. There's a good chance she's forgotten she's that one causing all of her paranormal experiences. Couldn't we help her out or something?"

Henrietta shook her head as she shared a quick look with Garrett, who was shaking his head as well. "No, not unless she or a family member asks for help with that specific problem. However, that's strange that she found you in the first place."

"We are in the phonebook, under American Human Services. Our summary is basically: American Human Services deals with situations that are both of the normal and paranormal variety. Call us by phone…blah blah. Therefore, she has a perfectly good reason for coming to us. But you are right, we can't help her unless she realizes her problem, or someone else does for her. We can't divulge our true purpose to just anyone."

The food quickly disappeared as the group chatted and Randall sat quietly and made himself seem the good boy. Drew told of his newest patient, and soon everyone was finished eating, whether it be from the intensive detail he went into or the lack of even crumbs on the plates. As a tradition, at 157 or otherwise, the women stayed in the kitchen and tidied up the dinner mess, and the men went into the living room to watch TV.

"I can't wait until I graduate, so I can work with all of you at AMAWA. I feel so left out going to school, while the rest of you are saving lives. It makes me feel inadequate." Henrietta wiped down the table absently, thinking more about her life then the cleanliness of the piece of wooden furniture.

Melodie, who was at the sink diligently cleaning the dishes, chuckled at her friend. Being the older, wiser woman at 24, she knew what Henrietta was feeling. She was a ball of emotions, torn between a man she hoped she was meant to love, a job she longed for to feel real, and the schooling she knew she needed. Now that Melodie was so successful, and actually happy, she couldn't really grasp Henrietta's troubles but hoped she could touch on them. "College is good for you. I didn't think it then, but now I'm proud of myself for going through Stanford. It looks good on your resume, besides."

"But University of Nebraska? It doesn't ring the same bell Mel, and you know it. This is a nice place to live, and I'm glad the four of us chose it, but it's not that appealing. You get a pamphlet to go to either California, Florida or Nebraska, and you guess how many people pick Nebraska. I'm going to have to work my ass off to get a job with all of you. My credentials aren't half of what yours and Garrett's are, and my name doesn't hold the same luster as Drew's and James."

Melodie often had trouble convincing Henrietta that she was as appealing as everyone else knew she was. "I'm quite sure you already have a job at AMAWA. If not from your own doings, then from one of us. It always seems we are mentioning you in some talks with Bob and Harry," Henrietta flinched slightly, but not enough for the blonde to notice, "so they know how smart you are. You're going to be an asset to us all."

Henrietta liked the sound of that, even though that time was still a long way off. Graduation wasn't for four more months, and she didn't know if she could stand living in this situation for that much longer.

The TV was blaring, but no one was really watching it. Drew and James held each other's hands, and were thinking about much more. They were about to throw out their tact, but they had done that last time, so they decided it was better to bond a bit. Garrett was thinking about the Rocky Road ice cream in his fridge, and Randall wondered what he and Natalie could be doing.

"Business went on as usual?" James asked Drew softly, his head tilting to lie on Drew's shoulder.

Forensic scientist that he was, he was not able to tell his boyfriend much about his job. However, that never stopped him from telling the most that he could. "Yes, business as usual. The Jackson case is next week, so that date of ours might have to be postponed."

"Bugger."

"Yes, later that would be nice," Drew added evilly, and James laughed. He couldn't remember a time when he was happier. Especially not when he was younger. An overpowering aunt and uncle came to mind, and made him queasy. Henrietta and Melodie were a calming sight, as they stepped out of the kitchen.

"We'd better go Gar," the blonde said to her boyfriend, and he nodded obediently before rising. He said a short goodbye to the guys, then made a quick exit with Melodie. Henrietta gave the room a look around, stopping briefly on Randall who was pretending to be enraptured by the television. "I'm going to go to bed, long day tomorrow."

Drew and James nodded, and rose as well. "Sounds great Etta, so are we. See you tomorrow." Their door was locked quickly, leaving Henrietta and Randall alone in the room together. They both longed to clean their mess up, but there was never this soon a makeup. He would go to Natalie, she would find some guy to occupy herself with, and the process would end soon enough.

"Good night Randall," she said softly, and went into her room, locking her door behind her as well. She would proceed to drown herself in something like Michael Bolton or some other sappy love stuff until she wet her pillow sufficiently and cried herself to sleep.

Randall sat back on the couch, and blinked before shutting off the TV. Sometimes he truly wondered how they had successfully left their identities of Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and his own of Ron Weasley behind.


	2. On the Flip Side

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Ainsworth is a real city in Nebraska, but I created everything in it. 

Notes and Warnings: This is practically an AU, so if those aren't your thing, then don't read. Slashers: There's het. Non-slashers: There's slash. By the way, Charlie – I think he's great as a dragon tamer in leather. But this setting works for him, I think. Don't kill me lol.

Enjoy, read and review as you see fit. Constructive criticism is great.

Bath, England. 2/20/03. Morning.

The sun was rising obediently, ready to start the world's day, but the occupant of the bed was already awake. His eyes were wide open, but that wasn't to say he was doing anything productive. The time spent in bed just soaking up life was vital to his existence, because for a very long time he hadn't even had a bed to speak of. The simple things in life stood out to him so much now that just a few lazy minutes lying in bed was more important than any amount of the money he was bringing in lately.

But the time spent wasn't going to last any longer. A steamy form emerged from the bath, and the steam, along with the sun shining in his direction, made him seem like a golden god. Sirius liked to believe that Remus really was a god. He had certainly been his savior, multiple times. "Morning sunshine."

Remus toweled his hair to a slightly damp level, and smiled down at his lover. "Morning to you too Siri."

Sirius looked a bare Remus up and down sideways before grinning slightly. "I'd love you forever if you threw that towel to the side and came back to bed Rem. I'll make you breakfast." Sirius jutted his bottom lip out in a pout, but Remus was unshakable once he had had his shower in the morning. Maybe he shouldn't have offered to make breakfast, because cooking definitely wasn't one of his better talents. Once he had burned water, but he maintained the fact that it was a very long time ago.

"As much as I would love to crawl back into bed, slap you around a little bit before making hot passionate love to you, leaving you completely breathless…" he let his words linger and hit Sirius below the belt, "we have work to do today. And as I remember it, you have a letter to write to James. Besides, I'd much rather eat dirt than eat something you cooked."

"I can feel the love in the room," the dark haired man groaned as he fell back on the bed.

Remus chuckled and headed over to his dresser drawer. He pulled out a nicer than usual pair of dress robes and boxer shorts which he slipped on before looking back at Sirius. "I meant it out of love Sirius. You do cook worse than an amputated house elf could, and you do have work to do. I'm not one to lie about commitments, like someone I know." The dress robes he donned after were probably his lover's because they hung loosely over his smaller form.

Sirius reluctantly rose from the bed, and shivered from the breeze hitting his bare skin. Remus watched him thoughtfully, and briefly wondered if maybe he should have taken the other man's offer. Sure, work wouldn't get done but at least his growing eagerness would be sated. Overall though, he knew he had tonight, just like every night, to make up for the mornings he didn't give to Sirius. "I'm going to the office love, see you later." Sirius muttered something from the bathroom doorway, and Remus decided not to pursue it.

Sirius ran some water for his shower, and it was quickly steaming hot like he liked it. Luckily Remus hadn't used all the hot water for once. Under the steady spray, he wondered how he had gotten into such a normal routine. For years he had been on the run, not knowing when the next meal, shower or news would come. Now he was a regular human, with a normal job and life. He let the shampoo soak in his hair, the way he always did. The only thing he hadn't discarded from the past was his long hair; it was too precious to him and besides, Remus fancied it.

After drying, dressing and gathering his materials, he flooed into the office. Seamus met him as he arrived, his headphone strapped professionally around his sandy hair and a pile of papers nestled in his arms. "Hello Mr. Black, would you like your tea now, or in ten minutes during your meeting with the associates?"

Sirius looked upon his secretary briefly before replying. "The second sounds good. Board room five right?"

The pile of papers fluttered around, and Finnigan nodded obediently. "Yes Mr. Black, board room five. You will need all of this quarter's information, on request of Mr. Weasley. Perhaps you might also want to discuss the Reiley case with Mr. Manson before the meeting. They will be inquiring on the progress of it, I assume."

Sirius nodded at the young man and a milli-second past before Seamus was off again either muttering to himself or into the phone. He seemed to be a very work-oriented person; he was certainly paid enough to act the part, but he still appreciated a good-looking woman. Finnigan hadn't changed much since school, a skirt-chaser until he died or became blind. And of course then he could still use his hands.

Sirius walked the short distance to his office, and sat in the chair behind his desk. Remus had obviously stolen his more comfortable one, and had left him with the harder. Sometimes he didn't know why he put up with the werewolf, other than the reason that he loved him. He dug through some manila folders on his desk and pulled out the quarterly earnings, which accompanied the accounts the firm handled. He scanned the papers to make sure he had everything he needed, and put it to the side.

Next, he pulled out Cassandra Reiley's file. The thirty something witch had come to their firm back in August, asking for help in locating a lost uncle. It had quickly involved into an inheritance case, and it had snowballed from there. As of now, the case was bringing in over five hundred dollars a day, and they were still interrogating witnesses on the missing rich uncle. Cassie was successfully acting the pitiful niece, and Sirius was bound to believe her story. Fighting family members on the other side were vicious, but not likely to win.

He dialed 2 on his phone, an invention he had just recently become reacquainted with as he moved up in the firm, and was met with a gruff hello. "Hello Mr. Manson, I'm calling on behalf of the Reiley case?"

The older associate grumbled incoherently for a second. "Yeah, the one with the legs?"

Sirius was not one to really notice a good pair of women's stems. "Sure, yeah, that one Mr. Manson. Anyway, I've been hearing that we will have to speak our progress at this morning's board meeting. Is it couth of us to admit that we are stringing her along for her endless wallet?"

The man chortled unpleasantly, and Sirius made a note never to say anything funny to him again. "I don't think Weasley would find that very funny Black, but it's a nice thought. I'm sure the bill is piling up, if my calculations are correct, but there is no need for them to know any of that. There are still some witnesses to interrogate, right?"

"Yes Mr. Manson. We'll just tell them the basics, and a bit more if they ask. Thanks, that's all I wanted."

"Sure Black, it's always a pleasure."

Sirius hung up the phone, and had a second of silence before there was a knock on the door. He ran his right hand through his hair, and said hesitant come in. Remus' head appeared, and Sirius smiled wearily. "Come to laugh at the piles of parchment on my desk have you?"

Remus shut the door and looked at the parchment in question. He shook his head shortly with a secret smile on his face, and leaned against the door. "Be serious."

Sirius chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. "When am I not Sirius you great prat?"

"We aren't getting into this one again. Come on, are you going to let me walk you to the meeting or am I going to have to beg?" 

Sirius rose and kissed Remus gently. He raised his lips a bit, and whispered, "Begging is always good for me." He pulled back and stroked Remus' hair sensitively. "How can you still be so perfect after so many years Remmie?"

A blush rose on Remus' cheeks. He didn't like to admit that he was a good-looking man, but then again Sirius was reluctant as well. "I thought I had kicked you of that drug habit," he replied as he hooked arms with Sirius, and opened the door. 

"Maybe you kicked me of the drugs, but you've yet to get rid of my addiction to you," Sirius retorted with an evil giggle, and Remus elbowed him and quickly released his arm.

"We've been over this," Remus said sternly as he eyed an intern watching the couple closely, "no pervy comments at work. At home, sure, in bed, certainly, but not at work." Sirius just chuckled at Remus, who was still fuming, and they walked silently to boardroom five.

Seats were taken and slowly filled, until it was ten o'clock up and down, when the leading partner of the firm made his way in. Charles, but usually still Charlie, Weasley, thirty-two, tall, redheaded and handsome, silenced the side conversations as he took his wide strides to the head of the long table. His robes made an overpowering swishing sound as he passed. "Well hello everyone. Having a pleasant morning I hope?"

Everyone nodded obediently in response, and he gave the oval of people a small smile. Today wasn't the best day to hold a productive meeting. "That's good. Can't run a top 100-wizarding business if the employees are under the weather. Yancy," he directed to a younger associate who immediately began squirming. "How is that case with the cat coming?"

"My paralegal is recovering the last of the documents regarding it. Court proceedings begin a week from Thursday. We are sure to win." Escaped magical cat pulls a fire alarm at a muggle company, and all heck breaks loose. Yancy was the only one who didn't see it humorous, and this was only because he was the one getting paid not to break a smile while mentioning it.

"That's great. Lupin?"

"Same as always Mr. Weasley," there was never a day that Remus didn't feel a bit weird talking to a man ten years his junior, someone who shared his dinner table with him, in such a serious manner, never mind that he was the one signing his paychecks. "We are still receiving at least 10 calls a day, steadily getting more serious in situation."

Charlie nodded slowly. There was a pregnant pause, then he turned to Sirius. "The Reiley case?"

Sirius didn't like the way Charlie had directed the statement right at him. Mr. Manson was also in the room, and he could have explained the progress just as well as Sirius could. "Fine as far as I can see Mr. Weasley. We have a few more witnesses to interrogate, then the court proceedings as soon as we are finished with that."

"The case has just been terminated."

Everyone paused and looked at Sirius. "What?"

"Exactly what I said Mr. Black. Seems that Ms. Reiley has found alternative representation in America. By the way, the meeting is over." Twenty shocked but not surprised associates stood up and exited the room, but Sirius and reluctantly Remus, stayed planted in their spinning chairs. Charlie had foreseen this, and sat back in his chair as Sirius began his rant.

"What do you MEAN the fucking case is terminated? I just spent four fucking months working with that little whore, and this is what she gives us? What the FUCK is up Charlie?" In the presence of no one important other than the CEO and his lover, plus the fact that he had just lost his month's paycheck allowed him to use casual names and colorful language.

Remus stretched an arm across Sirius to hold him from punching Charlie. Who just swallowed slowly and tried to think of a good way to inform Sirius of what he knew. "Basically, she has to move to the states, and is picking up an attorney there. As an after thought, she remarked that she could probably find better."

"That little bitch…" Sirius growled a good imitation of Padfoot.

"She dropped her payment off this morning."

"Okay, so she's a paying bitch. That's crap Charlie, and you know it. Did she say who she was going to hire in America?" There was no way that any firm was as efficient as Like Magic law firm, Britain or elsewhere.

"I think she said America Muggle and Wizarding Associates. Ring a bell?" Charlie couldn't help the smile playing on his lips now, no matter the situation. Sirius' jaw dropped a bit and he shook his head. 

"The little bas—never mind. He better not fuck it up."

Ottery St. Catchpole. The Burrow. 2/20/03.

"I had no clue the entire world would be joining us for dinner, or I would have prepared a bit more," Molly Weasley complained well naturedly to Bill, who was stirring the gravy sullenly. The rest of the family, plus the extensions of his wife, Remus and Sirius, Ginny's current boyfriend Sebastian, Fred and George's whores of the week, and Oliver Wood was congregated in the den playing charades.

"You know you like the company mum. Lately even Ginny is gone all the time, leaving you with no one but the Wizarding Wireless to keep you occupied. I notice that the kitchen is immaculate." He was specifically speaking of the blindingly clean linoleum, but the perfectly arranged pantry was certainly outstanding.

Molly smiled wistfully at the sink, and shrugged to herself. "The burrow hasn't been so clean since you and Charlie were just out of nappies Bill. I have nothing to do anymore. Your father is about ready to strangle me; I clean the living room while he tries to read the paper. I miss the lot of you running around and being horrible. I'd even accept Fred and George and their pranks back for a while."

Bill shut off the gravy, and turned to study his mother. She was still the jovial woman she had always been, but wrinkles were beginning to gather at her eyes and mouth more noticeably now, and her hair had streaks of gray. Having seven children, the oldest at 34 (himself, married with children of his own), would do that to a woman. "I'm sure you would mother. Cynthia and I would visit more, but our jobs, Derrick and June keep us very busy."

The 10 inch, dragon wood, unicorn tail wand swished, and the bowl of salad was lifted to nestle between the ham and peas. Molly turned to face her oldest son, the one that used to have fang earrings and long hair, and looked at him closely. "You are all growing up, have grown up, so fast. Charlie is so successful. Fred and George, as much as I hate to admit it, have matured somewhat, and are making good names for themselves. Percy is happy, and on his way to being the next Minister of Magic. Ginny, well, she's getting there."

Bill waited for the last name. Molly, however, frowned slightly and shook her head. "But that's what kids are supposed to do, of course. Silly me, wanting you all to stay the same, and with me. Will you call everyone in here please?"

"What about Ron mum."

She froze. "There is no reason good enough to leave your family. I thought we had raised him better than that, but obviously your father and I were wrong. Now it's time for dinner, and not the time to discuss unwanted topics." Bill left the room quickly, and Molly sat in her seat and wiped her eyes before she shed tears.

Fred was egging on what seemed to be his date, an expected six-foot tall well-endowed blonde with killer legs, act out what seemed to be a chicken. Remus and Sirius were far from paying attention, chatting intensely with Oliver and Percy about something. Ginny and Sebastian were occupied. "Dinner time."

There was a general rush to the kitchen table, some more than others, and finally only his wife Cynthia was still sitting in the now tranquil living room. "What's wrong Bill?"

He shrugged and sat down next to her. It was unfathomable how well she was able to read him. Since the first day she had begun working alongside him at the London branch of Gringotts, she had known all of his ins and outs. She wasn't the most gorgeous woman in the world, but she was pleasant and very smart. His family loved her, and so did he. "Nothing."

She rubbed his thigh and smirked knowingly. "Like hell it's nothing. You don't put on that puppy dog face for nothing."

Her blue eyes were kind, but intense. He could tell her anything when she was looking at him like that. "You never met him, but I have another brother. He left the country after the war, with his best friend, girlfriend and worst enemy. None of us even know why exactly because mum and dad kicked him out of the house before he could even explain." That day was still vivid to Bill, because that was the only time he had seen his parents truly angry. And hurt.

"Ron Weasley?"

"Uh…yeah?"

"I had always just thought he was a cousin or something. No way, he's your brother? Best friends with Harry Potter, fought right along with him until the last showdown? That's crazy Bill. He had to leave because of the overwhelming fame, and surely there are tons of Voldemort's death eaters looking for him. Don't Molly and Arthur understand that?"

Bill rose and pulled Cynthia up along with him. "I'm sure, but they just don't want to face facts. Come on, I made gravy."

**

Everyone felt the tension at the table, some more than others. Liza and Renee, Fred and George's flavors of the week, both wondered what had everyone's panties in a knot. Oliver was focused on next week's game against the Cannons. "So, Charlie, how was your day?"

Charlie immediately looked up from his plate to Arthur. His father, even though he was getting on in years, never ceased to sound genuinely intrigued with his offspring and their lives. Charlie glanced at Remus and Sirius who were focused on their dinner plates. "Our highest-paying client decided to transfer her account to a firm in the states."

Percy snorted unpleasantly, earning him disconcerted glares. "Excuse me. This client is transferring her prize account to a firm in the states? A bunch of war loving hypocrites? Women." This comment earned him cold glares from the women at the table, and hidden smirks from the men.

"Tactful Perce," Charlie replied with a nervous glance at his mother. 

Oliver elbowed Percy, who was fuming as only he could. "I'm sure there is a perfectly good reason for her choosing a different firm. Right you guys?"

Sirius bit into a scallop thoughtfully. "Spot on. Mixture of moving to the states, having a bigger name working for her. She has a load of cash to spend to her heart's content. At least I don't have to listen to her whiny voice anymore. Hey Gin, who's this handsome man here?"

Ginny blushed on impulse. Ever since Sirius had cleaned up and been cleared, she had had a schoolgirl crush on him. She knew he was gay and she was 20 years younger than he was, but he was still a very handsome older man. "Sebastian. He plays the drums for my band."

She was starting a predominantly girl band called the Black Cats, in which she was the lead singer. Who knew she could sing with an attitude? They were popular with young punks that hung out at the new Diagon Alley club Hex, and rumors were flying about a record contract. Fred chuckled and looked Sebastian over. "Sure looked like he was doing more than just playing your drums earlier."

The blonde haired young man smiled contritely. "We are dating."

"My little sister making out with a guy she isn't dating wouldn't sit right with me," said George, looking over at his mother and father who were trying very hard not to get into the conversation and put their two cents in. Their daughter was old enough to make her own decisions, even stupid ones.

"Maybe it's none of your business George," Ginny said hotly.

Sebastian looked from his girlfriend to her fuming brother. "Hey now, let's all just be cool."

Bill was amused. "Yeah you all, let's just be cool. Fred, George, who are your lovely companions?" Better for them to be the spotlight now, instead of worrying their twinly heads about their sister's love life.

It seemed that both of the blondes had worked for them in their main shop, until one of them had apparently leaned over enough to get Fred and George excited. Now they work as secretaries in the main office. Fred's was Renee; George's was Liza. Renee smiled at Molly. "This meat and gravy is delicious."

"Thank you dear." Nothing better than a suck up at dinner.

Remus looked over at Oliver. "How's Quidditch going?"

Percy rolled his eyes as Oliver started talking. "Well, we're 5 and 3 right now, but we are sure to beat the Cannons and Ireland later this month. Jenkins doesn't think we'll get to the semi-finals, but I think we have a chance."

Liza shook her fork at Oliver. "Oh my god, you're Oliver Wood! I knew I had seen you from somewhere. I used to date Dale Parks."

Oliver would figure Dale the seeker to go for this sort of girl. "Oh yeah, I remember you," he lied.

To cover the awkward silence, Percy sat up slightly. "At the Ministry of Magic today—"

Errol hit the window, gratefully cutting off Percy who was going to babble about something no one cared about. It was about time to retire the old bird, but none of the Weasley's had the heart just yet. "Oh dear," Molly gasped, putting down her napkin and fork and hurrying over to the twitching owl. She gently pulled the letter from his claws, and helped him up. He hooted graciously and flew out the window to his tree.

She handed the letter to Charlie. "For you dear."

Charlie wondered why the addresser hadn't sent the letter along with his owl Aristotle. The sender of the letter quickly solved that puzzle. The dinner was over for him.

Ainsworth, Nebraska. 2/20/03. 10:09.

More than anything, he knew he shouldn't be here. It was Thursday night, a school night and the face Henrietta had made when he went out the door was ingrained in his mind. The fact that Natalie was so eager to go out was the only plus and made Randall feel a little less inadequate. "You look nice tonight."

Natalie smiled, her thin lips stretching over her teeth. She was wearing something she would wear to a club, although he had specifically told her on the phone that he was feeling a bit under the weather and only up for something relaxing. She took a sip of her soda. "Thanks Randy. What's wrong?"

Randall reached across to cover Natalie's hand, with perfectly painted fingernails, with his own. Henrietta didn't believe in painting her fingernails, despite the fact that she had been raised muggle. "A bit of everything, really. School is stressing me out."

Natalie knew it wasn't school that was bothering Randall. When it was said that she knew Henrietta, it wasn't a lie. More specifically, she saw the bushy haired woman every Tuesday when she went grocery shopping, and this week Henrietta had looked especially dowdy. "I see. Anything I can do to help?"

Randall smiled gently at the girl, and shook his head. "Just being here is helping Nat."

Sometimes Natalie really wished that he would love her. They would make cute kids. She was a great interior decorator, and would design the snazziest looking house in Ainsworth. Alas, it was not meant to be, as much as she had tried to convince herself it could work out. 

"It's nice to be with you Randy, even here." The fast food restaurant was empty. The bored teen at the counter was counting floor tiles and impatiently waiting for it to be 10:30 so he could close up and go home. Randall's half-eaten hamburger was nice and cold, and the ice in his coke cup was melted.

Randall didn't want to be here. Natalie was a great friend, someone that he could go clubbing, get drunk and make out with and not get the least bit guilty. For some reason. But she was not the kind of girl he could successfully love. He didn't think Henrietta was that woman either. Didn't want to think. "Have I ever told you that you are great?"

She smiled weakly. "Not today."

"Well you are." 

She liked to tell herself that the only reason she liked him was because of his red hair. No one else in Ainsworth had red hair, natural red hair anyway, strangely enough. She liked it when he ran his fingers through it recklessly, as he was doing now. "Thanks Randy."

He sipped his drink, grimaced slightly from the flat taste, and met eyes with the teen. "We'd better get outta here. How about we go over to Frosty's and get a cone?"

She rose and briefly calculated her calorie intake of the day, realized she was 100 over, and said screw it. "As long as it's chocolate, and you're buying."

Anything to get out of the house, Randall thought as he linked hands with her. "Of course Nat."

Letter received by Janine Marshall, Mr. Porter's secretary. 2/22/03. 9:15 AM.

__

Dear James,

No, you aren't seeing things. Your loving godfather is getting off his lazy arse (well, you know what I mean) to write you a most interesting letter. Hell, who am I kidding? Nothing is bloody happening over here with the exception of the ordeal your Americans are going through with Iraq. Good thing I'm not a muggle that has to decide which stupid bastard to vote for as Prime Minister and President, etc. But anyway, enough about that. I hope that you all are doing well. The last thing I want is for you lot to get one of those American diseases and what not. Remus sends his love. Sometimes I don't get him though. I mean, he's always been much more work oriented than me, but does that mean that he can't even skip a board meeting to go make out with me? Yeah, I can see you squirming from here you little hypocrite. But as I think about it, the last thing I'd want to see was you and Drew getting cozy together. Which I still can't fathom anyway, considering who spawned him…Speaking of which, he was in the news the other day, rumors flying about him starting another war and such. I don't think the git has the guts, personally, after what You-Know-Who did to him and all. I know I'd be scarred. Well, I think this letter has rambled and jumped around quite enough. OH before I forget you little bugger, enjoy that Reiley case. I spent four bloody months on the thing and that little…well, she's not an angel by any means…decides to move and transfer. Oh well, write back with any new developments. You know you will want advice from the master.

Love,

Sirius

P.S.- Have Henrietta and Randall cleared up their relationship problems by chance? I swear, the straight ones…


End file.
